The evening air was dense with stillness, but Rehan's mind refused to rest.
He sat alone in the back room of the safe house, a small lamp casting shadows across the map spread before him. Red pins marked recent sightings. Circles and arrows overlapped where Mira had been followed. Lines drawn in thick black ink connected the impossible.
Too many coincidences. Too much access.
He took a breath and picked up the photograph they recovered from the intruder — the one taken of Mira outside her university. The angle, the timing… it wasn't just surveillance.
It was inside information.
Someone close had been feeding details — locations, routines, even conversations. That message sent to Aarav's secure inbox had required credentials only a few people had.
Rehan flipped open his notebook, listing everyone who had access.
Aarav. Mira. Himself.
Aarav's tech contact in the city, Imran.
The caretaker of the safe house, Samir.
And…
His pen hovered.
Naira.
She had once been part of Aarav's journalism network. Quiet, helpful, always in the background. She was the one who delivered Mira's walking cane when they first went into hiding. She was the one who picked up Aarav's backup phone weeks ago — without being asked.
At the time, it seemed helpful. Now, it felt calculated.
Rehan didn't make accusations. Not yet.
He started by visiting the back storage room where Naira had organized supplies just days ago. It looked untouched — almost too untouched.
He checked the drawer where Aarav kept emergency devices. One tracker was missing. Odd — Aarav hadn't used one.
He moved to the backup router.
Password recently changed.
Not by Aarav. Not by Rehan.
But someone who had access.
Later that night, Rehan sat across from Aarav and Mira.
"I think we have a leak."
Mira stiffened. "You're sure?"
He nodded slowly. "Someone fed information. They knew when Mira left. They knew exactly where she'd go. That's not luck — that's planning."
Aarav's voice dropped. "Who do you suspect?"
Rehan hesitated. "I have a few names. But I'll only say this: whoever it is, they're close enough to know our weak spots."
Mira whispered, "Then we're not safe here."
Rehan's eyes narrowed. "We haven't been for a while."
He stood up. "Give me three days. I'll find them. I'll follow every signal, every shadow. They slipped once — and that's all I need."
Hours later, in another corner of the city, a woman stepped into a quiet café, placed an envelope beneath a sugar jar, and walked out without ordering a thing.
Inside the envelope was a flash drive.
Inside the drive?
The floor plan of the safe house.
A list of Mira's medications.
And one line of text:
"He's starting to suspect. Accelerate the plan."